Shawn – POV
The Four Seas were behind me—tamed, silenced. Pirate activity had dropped to near-zero, and for the first time in decades, dreams of rising from the Blues had dimmed.
I had done what the Marines could never quite finish.
Now I stood at the bow of my miniaturized Marine warship, coat draped over my shoulders, bare-chested as always. I never saw the point in shirts. In battle, they were just extra weight—and wasting Haki to protect fabric felt like sacrilege.
My body was cloaked in full Armament Haki, not for combat, but for training. Keeping it active constantly drained me. My will had to feed it continuously, burning like a furnace beneath my skin. But I was refining it, strengthening my control day by day.
Observation Haki extended around me in a full kilometer radius. Every movement, every vibration in the sea—known. I was turning my instincts into precision.
We sailed the Calm Line—an area littered with Sea Kings. I welcomed it. Not just for the danger. But because I needed them.
"Bring the ropes."
The air shifted before the beasts even surfaced. My crew felt it too—everything went quiet. The sea trembled as I extended my will outward, my Conqueror's Haki laced with direct intent.
I projected commands into the minds of two serpentine Sea Kings. They buckled under the pressure, eyes dulling as my will buried theirs. I didn't scream. I didn't threaten. I simply told them what to do.
They obeyed.
We secured the massive ropes to their necks, and in a matter of minutes, the beasts were pulling our warship at incredible speeds, halving our travel time toward Sabaody Archipelago.
Third Person – Arrival at Sabaody
A Vice Admiral awaited them, expression unreadable. Around him, dockworkers froze in place as two Sea Kings swam into the bay, pulling a Marine vessel behind them.
His Observation Haki screamed a warning—pressure, depth, danger. For a moment, he thought it was a Yonko.
Then he saw the man at the bow, arms crossed, Haki still leaking from his skin like smoke from hot metal.
Rear Admiral Shawn Newman.
Shawn – POV
The Vice Admiral tried not to show surprise, but I could feel it. He gave the necessary instructions for the coating and didn't ask questions.
Smart.
I kept my Haki steady—no outbursts. The so-called Celestial Dragons wandered nearby like entitled insects, but I restrained myself. For now.
Still… if one of them dared to point a finger my way, I wasn't sure I'd hold back. Their willpower was pitiful. I could probably break them with a glance.
As my ship was coated, I resumed my internal training. I had fought dozens of pirates since Ivan's fall, and none had challenged me in earnest. My physical growth had slowed—perhaps even plateaued—but I wasn't worried.
My will would carry the rest. My body was still evolving under that pressure—becoming something sharper. Something like a black blade. Not a tool.
A weapon.
I let out a laugh at the thought—one that echoed off the dock walls.
"Imagine the Fleet Admiral throwing punches at me," I muttered. "And not a single one lands."
The idea alone made me smile, and unintentionally, a flare of Conqueror's Haki burst from my body. One of the Marines nearby staggered, eyes wide.
I pulled it back.
Controlled it.
I wasn't the same as when I arrived in the Blues.
Vice Admiral – POV
Rear Admiral Shawn was more than a rising star. He was the embodiment of what the Marines had long hoped for—decisive, efficient, and terrifying.
To pacify the Four Seas? No one had done that in a century.
And now he stood here, riding Sea Kings, wielding Conqueror's Haki like breath, his body a fortress of iron.
He wasn't just strong.
He was dangerous.
And the higher-ups had to know—it was only a matter of time before they couldn't control him.
But for now, he wore the coat. And for now, that made him our greatest weapon.
Third Person – To the New World
Shawn's warship descended through the coated channels, past Fish-Man Island, tearing through the depths with his Sea Kings guiding the way. In just two days, they reached the base waters of the New World.
But as their ship surfaced from the depths, the sea ahead darkened—not from clouds, but from presence.
Two titanic wills collided before their ship had even cleared the current.
Both were young. Both were unproven.
But their obsessions burned hotter than fire.
On one side, a man destined to become Pirate King.
On the other, a man climbing toward Fleet Admiral—not through politics or legacy, but through force alone.
The sky cracked. The sea trembled.
And across the New World, those with true power turned their heads.
A new era was beginning.